


Let me guide you child

by littlediable



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Priests, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Choking, Church Sex, F/M, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 13:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30123174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlediable/pseuds/littlediable
Summary: The southern church community loves preacher James Barnes, but the reader appears to be the only one who has caught his interest, a woman that’s as wicked as the devil, luring the preacher right into her trap
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Kudos: 29





	Let me guide you child

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr little-diable, don't copy or edit my work

They called him the _Preacher_. 

A simple reference everybody in the community seemed to understand, a name everybody would let bleed from their lips if they were in need of some guidance.

But none of them knew the man behind his alb, the man whose body was littered with scars and old bruises that wouldn’t fade, the metal arm he tried to keep hidden. A man who had found god years ago, after a path full of darkness, marked by his sins, by the lives he had taken.

Preacher James Buchanan Barnes was a well esteemed man, a preacher that carried all life in him, caring for his small, though cohesive community. He knew them all by their names, knew their darkest and deepest secrets, knew every little detail about their sins. Sins he’d have to take to bed every single night, fighting with the devil as his own crimes seemed to catch up with him.

_And there she was. (Y/n). God, (y/n)._

She was a sweet girl he had known for years, watching her grow into the woman she now was, gorgeous, attentive and strong headed, trying to find a way to put her trust in God, though she seemed to miserably fail. Her mother had always been an admirer of preacher Barnes, naturally she’d force her daughter to tag along, patiently sitting next to her as they would listen to his prayers, the words of guidance he’d offer.

But the words seemed to leave her unfazed, not nearly as impressed with his knowledge as he’d hope. His thoughts were wrong, dark and ungodly, nothing a preacher should ever worry about, but (y/n) was a challenge, a riddle he ached to solve. He wouldn’t stop digging, wouldn’t stop uncovering her secrets, inviting her in for innocent talks, offering her his help in the darkest hours of the day.

“Preacher,” by now he seemed to understand what an angel-like voice should sound like, she was everything an angel would be, full of light and love, a trait he couldn’t help but feel somewhat jealous of.

He seemed oblivious, hadn’t managed to dig deep enough to uncover the devil that lay beneath her layers of skin, spurring her on with desires a child of god shouldn’t even dream about. She was dark, sinister and dangerous, hiding beneath an innocent facade.

“(Y/n)! What can I do for you?”

His raspy voice would ring in her ears as she’d arch her back off her mattress, hand disappearing between her thighs, trying to scratch the itch that left her panting and breathless. She’d try to imagine his cold fingers on her body, the metallic hand would keep her lock in place, wrapped around her throat as he’d force himself into her, ripping her open, filling her to the brim with his cum oozing out of her cunt.

“This is for you. I baked it this morning, I know how much you like my apple pie.”

The heavenly scent crawled up his nostrils, gaze flicking down to the pie she was holding in her hands, keeping it close to her chest, exposing her clean cleavage to his overly bright eyes. His body was calling out to hers, he was just a simple man, admiring the frame in front of him, gaze running along her curves, the soft skin her dress exposed. Another sin he’d commit, trying to stop all blood from rushing down to his cock.

“You’re an angel. Come on, eat a slice with me.”

His dark, slick shoes pounded against the wooden church floor, shoulders broad, hidden beneath a black dress shirt. 

Even though she had been in his room before, her nerves would always manage to get the best of her, skin heating up as she’d enter the comfortable space of his. “How’s your mother doing? Is she recovering?”

(Y/n)’s mother had been struck by an awful sickness, bed-ridden for a good few weeks, hiding away from the southern heat. “She’s been asking for you, maybe you’ll have some time to come by and pray with her?”

It was a selfish move, _really_ , begging the preacher to help her sick mother, simply to have him close, spending time around him outside of church, not giving the community members any more reasons to run their mouths.

_Would he follow her to her room? Would he break the eternal promise he’d made, for a simple girl like her?_

“Here you go-” he pressed a plate into her hands, “-I’ll come by tonight, around seven?”

She’d wear her finest dress, the brightest colors to impress the man who’d only wear black. Tonight she’d be on her best behavior, luring him in with her questions about God, waiting for answers she couldn’t care less about. But any chance to pull him into her trap should be one to take.

A small moan rumbled through the man of god, eyes closed as he indulged in the sweet taste, forcing one bite after another down his throat. (Y/n) couldn’t help but imagine the sounds he’d make as he’d bury his head between her thighs, lapping on her folds, tasting her arousal.

“I swear this is the best pie you’ve ever made.”

With a proud smirk on her lips, she stepped closer, putting her plate down, reaching for a napkin. Slowly she brought the white fabric up to his lips, cleaning crumbs off his skin, running along the bite marks his teeth had left the night prior, mind focused on her naked frame as he pumped his cock, sinking his teeth into his flesh.

His breaths grew shallow, barely audible, scared that he’d scare her off, cutting the moment short. But (y/n) seemed to drown in his eyes, hands moving on their own, letting the napkin fall to the floor as she replaced it with her fingers, tracing his cupid bow.

“I can’t wait to see you tonight, preacher.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, beard scratching her smiling lips. (Y/n) was out of the door before he had a chance to reply. James could still feel her skin pressed against his, the scent of her perfume lingered in the air, would keep him on his toes all through the day, at least till he’d see her again.

Hours later hot water kept on running down his naked frame, he had his palm pressed against the cold shower tiles, head hung with his eyes squeezed shut. James couldn’t waste any time, he had to work fast, hand pumping his throbbing cock, thumb running along his red tip, imagining (y/n) on her knees right in front of him.

An almost pained “ _good girl_ ” left the preacher’s lips, _oh_ , how gorgeous she’d look with his cum dripping down the valley between her boobs, eyes wide as he’d chant her name, fucking her throat. 

His cum shot out of him, leaving its stains on the shower tiles as it ran down the wall, getting mixed with the hot water. _What a waste_.

Time didn’t move by fast enough, by now he had skinned his fingertips from skimming too ferociously through his bible, distracting himself from analyzing the different outcomes of this very evening. 

Around six thirty he became nervous, lips wrapped around another cigarette as he left the church, making his way to his 1965 Ford Mustang.

Wanda Jackson’s voice kept him entertained, drowned out his loud thoughts as the car was howling through the night, taking all the right turns to her house. He felt his cross necklace burn into his chest, heating up as his mind traced back to the ungodly dreams he had, leaving its print on his skin.

“Preacher, I’ve been waiting for you.”

Shamelessly she ran her eyes up and down his frame, admiring the tight black shirt, the perfectly fitting trousers that accentuated his long legs, “Come on in preacher.” 

The house appeared warm, inviting him in, the homey atmosphere settled in his bones, leaving this place would be hard, he’d struggle to let go of the calming warmth that slowly wrapped itself around him. (Y/n) studied him, watched his muscles flex as he slipped out of his jacket, hands not letting go of the black, simple bible he’d always carry with him.

“She’s upstairs, might be asleep. I’ll wait down here.”

He couldn’t focus. His thoughts kept on circling around the red painted lips of hers, how effortlessly she took every calculated step, hands fumbling as (y/n) watched him from afar. The preacher would die an unsatisfied death if he wouldn’t get a chance to bury his throbbing cock in her aching heat at least once.

(Y/n)’s mother was fast asleep, he held her hand, palm of hers bearded by drops of cold sweat, room filled with the prayers he rambled. “ _In nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti_.” He neglected his duties and for what?

For a woman that was a good ten years younger than him, a woman who he could lose his profession and reputation for. But James Barnes didn’t have it in his heart to care, he couldn’t worry about the consequences, he’d just need to be careful, nothing more, nothing less.

“Coffee?”

Her sweet voice ripped him back into the present, small of her back pressed against the wooden kitchen table. The bright coloured dress she wore hugged her body in all the right spots, his fingertips ached to feel the soft fabric underneath them, cock painfully pressed against his dark trousers, begging to be freed.

“As if I’d ever say no to that, _sweetheart_.”

The nickname lingered in the air, burning his lips as if he had swallowed a bucket of holy water, flushing the evil spirits right out of his system.

Every clicking of her heels rang in his ears, like a choir of angels that would sing to him, preparing him for his anointing, burning on his skin as the devil was waiting for him, snatching him away from the pearly gates.

“Did you pray for her, preacher?”

She ran a finger along her neckline, placed in the wooden chair next to him, legs crossed, stopping her juices from dripping down her thighs. His gaze followed the movement of her hand, clearing his throat as a few strands of brown hair fell into his face, hiding his ocean clear eyes from hers. 

“She was asleep, but I did. Trust me child, she’ll return to her normal self in no time.”

He squeezed her knee, though the second she interlaced her fingers with his, he choked on his black coffee, searching for his pack of cigarettes. James had to distract himself, otherwise he’d bust before he’d take another breath. “Thank you preacher.” 

The moment she pushed her upper body into his direction the preacher was done for, crossing every invisible line with his hand moving up her thigh. He took a deep drag of his cigarette, smoke engulfed them, covering their sinful movements.

“Do you have enough time to pronounce my absolution, preacher?”

James leaned back in his seat, hand still placed on her thigh, squeezing the soft skin through her dress, “What would you need to confess, child?”

“Father, forgive me for I have sinned. I gave into the devil's calling, let him lead me through the night as I thought of you.”

His vision was fading, blurred by the fog of pleasure that seemed to wrap itself around him like a veil. The throbbing of his cock intensified, straining against his underwear, leaking drops of precum. She had him exactly where she needed him. Playing a game with the man of god, as if the devil himself had taught her how to lure the preacher in.

“What did you think about?”

(Y/n) barely understood a word he was whispering, voice raspy, lust laced. “I thought about your hands on my skin, preacher. I called your name as I gave into the feeling.”

James needed a moment to breathe, cigarette long forgotten, eyes hooded as his mind began to paint a picture of her naked frame, moaning his name. He couldn’t help but wonder, how she’d taste, probably as delicious as the forbidden fruit. 

The preacher would die to have one single taste, taking care of her like only a man with experience could.

Lightning struck on the sky, letting the blue, sharp light flood through the dark kitchen, giving her a chance to take in his flushed state, the impressive bulge he sported. “Onto your knees child, let me guide you through this.”

Her chair screeched, feet pushed along the floor as she dropped to the ground, hands firmly placed on his thighs, eyes not leaving his once. “Get to work.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, excitement rushed through her body, hands moving on their own, unzipping the dark trousers that fit him so perfectly. The thunderstorm drowned out his needy growns, the light gasps that slipped from his lips, not caring about the woman that was sleeping on the floor above them.

Just as he imagined hours ago, she sucked on his tip, tongue swirling around the salty skin. With every roaring of thunder she changed her position, licking up his length, trying to take as much of him as possible. Her touches were as nasty as the movies they’d only show in the red room cinemas.

“Am I forgiven, preacher?” Her words forced themselves into his system, having a buzzing effect on him as he growled her name, head tilted to the side, metal hand tangled in her hair. “I’m not so sure yet, child.”

He shouldn’t have let his gaze wander, should have stayed focused on her frame. The second his eyes met the massive cross (y/n)’s mother had bought ages ago, the preacher seemed to snap out of his daze, realization dawned upon him.

He wasn’t stuck in a daydream of his, _this was real_ , as real as it could get.

“Fuck,” the curse bled from his chapped lips, hands forcing her off his cock. His moves were haisty, uncontrolled. James had darted out of the house before she could have risen from the floor, saliva dripped from her chin, hair tangled in knots, a clear reminder of the things she had done moments ago.

James was completely drenched as he reached his beloved car, hands balled into fists, punching his steering wheel over and over again. If the community would ever hear about this very evening he’d have to leave the country, he couldn’t get tangled in a relationship that would be frowned upon.

But he couldn’t deny how he had savored the moment, the feeling of her rough tongue pressed against his aching cock, how her hands took care of the parts she couldn’t reach. _Fuck-_ now he’d had to scratch the itch himself, releasing himself into his hands as he’d do most nights, though this time it would be different, completely different. 

He wouldn’t ever forget about the look she had thrown him, the lovely eyes that lured him in. _Fuck, fuck, fuck- what had he done._

James hadn’t heard the frustrated scream that had bubbled out of her, she had been so close, _oh_ so close. She wouldn’t back down now, no, like a possessed woman she threw on her coat, set on a mission as she stalked through the rain, right towards the small church he was hiding in.

Like a coward he was crouching on his knees, right in front of the altar, letting one prayer after another pass his lips. He’d need to beg for forgiveness, asking the father to dismiss the small sidestep he had taken, letting his child rest, taking all his sins right out of his hands.

A few candles were burning on the altar, the only source of light the church could offer. The wide windows gave him a view onto the raging storm, the rain that poured from the pitch black sky, reminding him of the darkest dreams he’d fall into.

“Preacher,” her voice boomed through the wooden church, it didn’t carry any emotions, but James knew that he’d have to deal with a raging woman, she wouldn’t let him end the game without winning it first. She was stubborn, strong headed, a spoiled brat that hadn’t learned how to back down from a fight.

Her hand had met his cheek before he could stop her, metal arm snapping towards her throat, squeezing all air out of the wide eyed girl. It was a mere reflex, the soldier in him began to wake, freeing himself from his iron chains.

“Aren’t you a desperate woman? Begging for a man you shouldn’t touch?”

He had her on her toes, almost raising her off the floor as she struggled to catch her breath. (Y/n) couldn’t understand his change of behavior, the preacher that had run from her minutes ago was suddenly the one chasing her. 

_Was he punishing her? For the inappropriate way she had put her mouth to use?_

(Y/n) fell from his grasp, body crashing to the wooden floor, placed right in front of his feet. “Kiss my shoes, I want to hear you whimper for forgiveness.”

She did as she was told, lips meeting his wet, dark shoes, tongue running along the shiny material, there was nothing left to save her, she was a child of the devil through and through, having no dignity left. “Seems like a confession won’t teach you a thing-” he light another cigarette,”- maybe I should just fuck your bratty ways right out of you.”

It felt as if she had arrived at the gates of hell, skin burning off her body, screaming for any kinds of relief.

Arousal dripped from her folds, her clit pulsed against the thin material of her panties, ruining the fabric she hadn’t worn for long enough just yet. “Please,” the whimper echoed through the empty church, followed by another roar of thunder, the gods were betting on them, watching the two animals fight, licking their wounds dry as they tried to catch their breath.

“Onto the altar.”

The church would go off in flames, James was sure of it.

She spread her thighs for him, offering him a sight onto the wet spot that graced her panties, “Not once will you ever talk about this, are we clear sweetheart?”

The overly excited nodding of her head coaxed a chuckle out of him, hands running up her legs, cupping her sex through the thin fabric. They’d desecrate the altar, would let their fluids run along the holy table as their bodies would become one. 

James ripped her panties apart, disregarding the expensive fabric on the floor, he didn’t have the time -nor the strength- to let soft touches run along his body. He acted as if he was chased by ghost riders from hell.

“Touch me, please.”

He gave into her begging, metal thumb circling her clit, letting the heat spread on the cold digit of his. Her arousal stuck to the metal, glistening on it as the candlelight shone onto the two of them. (Y/n)’s expressions clearly projected the lust that flooded through her, the relief she felt as he finally touched her.

Moan after moan reverberated through the church, she was losing her strength, giving into the man of God as he kept on spreading her legs, fingers slowly pushing into her heat, exploring her soft walls. “You’re so tight, can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

The wood pressed into her back, began to form bruises as she mewled underneath him, back arched off the surface, limbs quivering, she was close, _oh so_ close. “Let me cum, please.” James kept on fucking her with his fingers, shaking his head with a tight grin on his lips.

“You’ll only cum around my cock.”

On command he let go of her trembling body, undoing his tight trousers, freeing the cock she had sucked off, the cock she had choked on, the cock she’d worship till the end of her days. He pounded into her, not giving her a chance to catch her breath, he was punishing her, fucking her like she wanted to be fucked.

Rough, merciless, bruising thrusts kept her screaming through the dark.

His length ripped her apart, her walls had a tight grip on him, painfully trying to adjust, though it didn’t seem to work, his pounding was too fast for her to grow comfortable around his girth. (Y/n) sobbed the preacher's name, eyes focused on the white collar that reminded her of the holy role he was supposed to play, no longer a killer, but a guidance in the dark night.

“I can feel you clenching, cum for me, sweetheart.”

The metal hand found her throat, squeezing off her airway to stop her moans from ripping out of her. Her walls spasmed around his cock, eyes squeezed shut as she kept on falling, crashing into the soaring waves of her ocean of lust. “Oh fuck,” his mouth found hers, lips locked, tongues battling.

“Gonna fill you up, fuck a baby into you, paint your walls white with my cum.”

It was a promise he intended to follow, giving it two more thrusts before he faltered, filling her heat with his sweet release.

Silence engulfed them, only the pitter pattering of the rain could be heard, filling the church as they tried to keep their breathing under control. “Thank you for listening to my confession father.”

In that very moment, he knew that he had fallen into the devil’s trap, there was no way out of the dark hole, forever he’d have to live with the burden he chose to take on.


End file.
